


moments of weakness

by hydrangeamaiden



Series: Lacenet Collection [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Recovery, Romance, Spider!Lace, Void!Hornet, otp prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-04 04:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21191582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: Hornet and Lace adjust to living together, in 500 words per chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

> Lace tucking the sheets around Hornet when they stir during the night.

Lace is too tired to get out of bed, but too awake to go to sleep. It’s one of those nights where her body is fighting with itself, refusing to sink heavy beneath the comforter. Hornet has drifted off two hours ago, and no longer wakes when Lace rolls in bed. She remembers when they first started sharing a bed—regularly, that is. Hornet had fussed over the sheets, and even put a half-canopy of sheer spider silk over top. All that work, and she still jolted awake at the slightest noise or nudging. Often wide-eyed, frightened, groping for her needle. Many a night was spent with Lace holding Hornet’s head against her chest, stroking and shushing her back to sleep; creeping downstairs to bring back a jug of water or something to nibble on; listening as her little spider stumbled over the details of a nightmare.

It has been a while since Hornet woke up in the middle of the night. Lace, on the other hand, still suffers from the occasional sleepless night. During this one, she has not yet resigned herself to insomnia, and lies resolutely in bed. Next to her, Hornet mewls.

Lace turns her head, expecting a companion in the waking world, but Hornet’s eyes are still closed. Her chest heaves; she tosses and turns with violence that Lace would never have dared, even at her most frustrated. She sits up and switches on the light. The fearsome princess of Hallownest has been ensnared by sheets around her kicking legs, and whimpers like a hatchling. Lace is well acquainted with those cries from their earliest nights together. In Pharloom, there would have been many a doctor to choose from, who would medicate her and provide pamphlets...if Hornet were not a spider.

One time, Hornet had showed her a jar of medicine that, in Pharloom, had been out of production for fifty years. Lace doesn’t have much to work with, here. She hikes up her nightgown and rummages quietly, until she has produced a full spool of silk. It’s frayed and matte, but strong. An extra pair of legs unfold themselves from her back, and she gets to work. Hornet half-awakens and struggles, but Lace’s silk does its job. It’s been a while since she spun something up, but the feel of her own thread spurs her muscle memory. It is quick, comforting work, both for her and her dear. Within minutes, Hornet cocooned from the neck down in a plush, heavy blanket. Lace lays her onto her back and fluffs up the pillow beneath her head, while her second set of legs feel the blanket for loose ends.

Lace wants badly to stretch her final pair of arms, bound securely to her back...but no. Forcing herself up would make it impossible to go back to bed, and Hornet might wake up and become frightened. Lace turns out the light and lies down on her side. Having a bed mate to watch over makes her situation bearable.


	2. Chapter 2

> Hornet buying Lace something unrequested because it made Hornet think of them.

It’s a testament to Dirtmouth’s condition, when the restocking of a shop is considered an unusual happening. Hornet and the other residents had been forced to scavenge in Hallownest’s ruins for clothes, food, and other such things. However, years of decay and looting (despite her best efforts, she could not stop every thief or vandal) have depleted both natural and bug-made resources. The few shops in town sold battle equipment or traveling gear, not necessities.

No one would have thought to sell useless ornaments, except for the caravan that comes wobbling in from the northern entrance. To the destitute residents of Dirtmouth—Hornet’s household included—these merchants might as well have been angels sent by a Higher Being. Hornet hasn’t been to a market since she was very small, and it has the same effect on her as a carnival. She quickly procures a shopping bag and fills it with food both familiar and unfamiliar: jellies and honey; dark red meat and jars of something the shopkeeper calls ‘milk’. She skips over the textiles, on account of her pride as a spider.

But then something catches her eye. Just below a display of cross-stitching, there’s a set of clay figurines, molded after imagined bugs and plants. This is probably the first time she has seen modern art, come to think of it. Everything down below is hundreds of years old. This here is, dare she say, fun and cute. Hornet, at her core, is someone who just wants things to be well and peaceful. These statuettes, whimsical as they are, fit her idea of ‘happy’. Especially that white mushroom. Its gills are sculpted to curl inwards, with fluffy layers of partial veils going down the stem.

The thousand-legger tending to the stall smiles. “Do you see something you like?”

“No! You can’t look at it.” Hornet side-steps Lace’s pin, which snags onto the cloak of the Hollow Knight, who teleports backwards and trips over Ghost, who is underfoot. They both fall, and fruit goes rolling in all directions. Ghost squeezes out from under Hollow, rushing to collect their cherries. Typical of Ghost to get so many of those!

"Come now, dear,” she says, turning back to Hornet. “You needn’t get so defensive over a little paper bag.”

“You’re the one who tried to skewer me.”

“You were being so secretive about it; I couldn’t help myself.”

“Enough,” Hollow interrupts. They rise, taking care not to step on Ghost this time. Lace, like most bugs still getting to know Hollow, watches them go and listens for more words that will not come. She folds her hands behind her back, head canted to one side, and this little gesture makes Hornet’s heart skip a beat. Cliched as it is, she has no other words to describe it.

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped,” Hornet huffs. She thrusts the package towards Lace, who snatches it up with a grin. “I was going to surprise you—but here. Just take it. I’m going back out to see if there is anything I missed.”

In the second she turns to leave, Lace tears a line in the packaging and secures her prize. There comes a bright laugh as Lace holds up her miniature in clay. Hornet was right—that mushroom looks exactly like her. A cross-section of it would have mimicked the curl of her horns. Maybe she’s exaggerating the resemblance a little bit, but it’s more fun that way. Hornet puts a hand over her mouth and giggles.


	3. Chapter 3

> Hornet giving Lace a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Hornet hears the fight before she sees it. The clicking sounds of a spider and the scuffle of many legs leads her to believe it’s a scuffle between Midwife and one of the Devouts. Whether it’s before, during, or after the infection, spiders have been known to settle their differences between blows. Hornet tightens her grip on her needle, and swings down towards the Midwife’s den. She doesn’t doubt her caretaker’s abilities, but this is _her_ Deepnest. Herrah’s passing means that the mantle of Queen shall go to her, if it hasn’t already. There are usually ceremonies that make it official.

But no matter. Hornet ducks beneath a low opening, one that she actually remembers using when she was just a spiderling. Years of arachnids scraping on by have rounded the walls and allow her to sail smoothly through the cave’s mouth. The Midwife, fully emerged from her tunnel, does not see her and nearly runs her down. Hornet crouches behind a husk, and watches her try to crunch a black and white spider between her jaws. Dark blue blood trickles down her chitin from various slash and puncture wounds, and flakes of silk fall like snow.

Wait a minute. The Midwife doesn’t bleed silk.

“Cease!” she cries, rising from her hiding spot. The Midwife jerks towards her with such a wild look that, for a moment, Hornet fears the worst. She raises her voice again: “That’s enough!”

She throws her needle into the wall and sails upwards, just in time to catch the Midwife’s prey. When they’ve landed safely, she lays the spider across her lap. It’s a testament to the Midwife’s power that she was able to take down Lace, of all bugs. For Wyrm’s sake, she’s missing one of her extra arms. She can see everything she needs to do for first aid, all at once, and it overwhelms her.

“Lace?” Hornet ventures. Like an idiot, she had gone and picked up Lace before knowing if her spine or neck were injured. “Lace, pull yourself together. _Hey_.”

Lace opens and closes her right hand weakly, searchingly. Her gilded pin is near the mouth of the Midwife’s tunnel, and the centipede in question lurks calmly above them. Hornet has no business scolding them for fighting, but she needs to tend to Lace. Is it safe to bring her to the lake? Will that aggravate her wounds further? The longer she hesitates, the worse it’s going to get.

“Is this the mate you were talking about?” Midwife asks. She lowers herself to their level, leaning in closer to look. Hornet squeezes Lace protectively against her chest, glowering over one bloodied white shoulder. The Midwife knows this stubborn look well. She has seen it many a time in the Gendered Child’s youth, most often when she found something—or someone—that she liked and refused to let go. To other bugs, it is a warning sign. To the Midwife, it’s just cute.

Lace breaks the silence by coughing loudly, and Hornet loosens her grip.

“Can’t breathe,” Lace complains, and Hornet looks like she’s going to cry with relief.

“Oh, Lace, I—I can’t believe you!” Hornet hugs her again, but gentler. She’s supposed to be used to violence, and here she is, reassuring herself. It’s okay now. They’re okay.


	4. Chapter 4

> Lace holding Hornet's hands when they are shaking.

Hornet gives drops her knitting needles for the third time in five minutes, and inhales so sharply that everyone stops to stare at her. That’s what she assumes, based on how quiet everyone goes. She’s fully aware of what’s happening to her, but cannot stop her own body. It was easier when she was young, and lacked that responsibility, so to speak. Neither she nor her teacher at the time knew what it meant when her body got all soft and melty, but they knew the hyperventilating and ringing tympanum. Knowing means she needs to take care of it somehow. She can’t.

“Are you alright?” comes Lace’s voice. To the others: “I’m taking her outside. We’ll be right back. Hornet, come on.”

She takes Hornet’s hands and leads her out of the room. There are little indents in them where Lace’s fingers touch, depressed by even the slightest pressure. Lace takes her out through the back door, into a wide patch of grass around which Ghost has set up a makeshift fence. It doesn’t stop anything or anyone from coming in, but it sets a boundary between them and the houses they are squished against. She thinks for a moment that they’re going to sit down, but Lace takes her further, down the narrow path running behind the houses. They don’t stop until they’ve reached the outskirts of town, by which point Hornet’s legs feel solid again. The cool, windy night makes her think of the sea, which strikes her as odd: Hallownest is nowhere near the coastline.

Lace sits her down on a crumbled stone, probably a bridge support at one time. When Hornet wasn’t looking, she had fetched a handkerchief, and is dabbing at Hornet’s eyes. The fabric comes away dappled black. She wants to say she’s fine, but nothing’s coming out. She just sits and shakes until black motes start flaking off her carapace. Lace, knelt before her, just rubs her hands and says nothing. She doesn’t tell her to stop crying, nor does she whisper sweet nothings as Hornet coughs and sputters.

“I’m—sorry,” Hornet chokes, and Lace just squeezes her hands tighter.

“Breathe,” Lace reminds her, “In...out. In...and out. Good girl.”

Several minutes of this brings her back down.  Hornet blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a trance. She feels like she has control of herself again, at the cost of being immensely tired.

“Does it happen often?” Lace rests her chin on her hand.

“Yes, as of late.”

“Your body...” Lace trails off. They both fall silent. Neither of them need to say it aloud. They’ve already seen it happen before, when Ghost is injured or Hollow is crying. It’s unusual for Hornet to go through the same thing, but her siblings know not to talk about it.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Hornet finally says.

“Alright.” Lace gives her hand another squeeze. “Do you need a few minutes, or are you ready to go home?”

Hornet looks up at the wide black sky, pricked by little stars and banded by a the arm of a galaxy.  If she squints, it looks like the ceilings of the underground, studded with crystals. It looks like home, but it’s not. She can’t spend the night out here—doesn’t  _want_ to. They left her knitting, and her siblings…

“I think I’m ready to go home.”


	5. Chapter 5

> Lace: I don’t want to be alone right now.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.”

At these words, Hornet stops at the edge of the station. Lace is still sitting on the bench, still staring out the warped stones that make up the Ancient Basin. A lone Mawlek crawls along the bottom, scraping for food. The only light here comes from inside the tram. It was once just a traveling husk employed by little Ghost, but today it is packed with bugs that the King would have never permitted to ride.

Hornet, due to a difference in plans, had been about to leave Lace to ride by herself. Despite the importance of her errands, she turns right back around and follows her girlfriend into the carriage. There’s only one seat available in the middle, and when Hornet gestures to it, Lace sits. She plants the tip of her needle into the carpet, ready to spend her trip standing. The tram has other ideas. It heaves forward, and Hornet’s feet slip out from under her. With only her weapon to hold onto, she quickly falls backwards. Lace catches her with the pointy end of her pin, reels her back, and puts her on her lap.

The other passengers jostle in their seats, some grunting from having been disturbed, then fall into quiet conversation when the tram moves forward. In the middle of this crowd, Hornet sits rigidly with both hands clutched around her needle’s handle. She’s not sure which would be worse: this, or actually falling on her back and embarrassing herself. That’s not to say she dislikes it when Lace holds her. Because of the voluminous amounts of frills she wears, and her naturally softer carapace, it’s like sitting on a pillow. It’s just that...in public…

“The public transportation here is awful,” Lace confides, and Hornet is barely able to stammer out ‘it is’ in response. Outside the window is a steady line of uninhabited cave walls. Even in Hallownest’s heyday, almost no one lived down here. It’s a sharp contrast from the shining Citadel in Pharloom.

Lace is evidently thinking of the same thing. “Remember that train in the Coral Forest?”

“Sort of.” Hornet is staring at the white-clad arms snugged around her waist. Everyone else seems too preoccupied with their own conversations and thoughts to give the two more than a glance. “It went underwater, didn’t it?”

“Yes. The windows were made to withstand the pressure of the bottom of the sea. I don’t know why I’m thinking about that now, of all things,” Lace sighs. “We even had trams, but this is like a cardboard box with wheels. It’s not the same at all.”

“Do you want to go back and ride it?” Hornet offers. The tram stops, and several passengers get out. When the doors slide shut, she doesn’t mention that she could have her own seat.

“Yeah...No, I couldn’t.” Lace falls quiet, and holds Hornet a little tighter. “Ugh. I want to go home.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” The tram reverses directions, but neither of them notice. Hornet twines their fingers together. The train makes a few more rounds, exchanging several more passengers, before the two make their exit into Deepnest. Lace waves her hand with a flourish, and a cluster of glow flies spring into being.

“Pretty.” Hornet holds a finger out for one to land on. “You’ve brought to Hallownest just by being here, so don’t give up on it yet. Swear?”

She holds out her pinky, and Lace, despite her best efforts to be gloomy, cannot help but smile.

“Swear.”


	6. Chapter 6

> Lace teaching Hornet how to kiss, and Hornet ends up kissing Lace really quick, nervously asks 'Like that?' and leaves Lace silent and flustered for a moment.

“Hmm.” Lace tilts Hornet’s head to one side, then the other. She leans in as if going to kiss her, then draws back. Should Hornet’s hands go on her shoulders, or around her waist? How does one kiss with no lips? Lace has taken it upon herself to teach Hornet, who could have gotten away with being much less patient. Especially since Ghost has tagged along with them to Greenpath. They have all taken a break from scavenging to sit under an overhang of moss, and to be honest, there’s not much else they can do to entertain themselves.

“What are you doing?” Hornet asks, finally losing her patience when Lace pushes her into the grass. “...Are you going to kiss me? If so, then stop fooling around, or at least shoo away our audience.”

She gestures to Ghost, who is sitting cross-legged nearby.

“Little Ghost,” Lace begins, turning to the Vessel, “Between you and I, Hornet’s kissing could use some improvements.”

Hornet exclaims in indignation, and sits up so quickly that her and Lace’s foreheads smack together. She puts a hand over her wounded shell, but what really hurts is her pride. That’s one thing Lace has learned about Hornet: she is prideful, to an extent, and only with little things of little consequence.

“You’ve never complained about it before!” Hornet blusters, as Ghost comes over to comfort her. They stretch their little arms out even as she holds a hand out to keep them away. “W-we’ve—have we not—”

“You almost always have your eyes open,” Lace points out, “and you never lean your head. You just go straight forward. You’re not bad at it, but it’s clear you’ve never done it before. It’s so cute. Ghost, come here a moment.”

She plucks them away from their sister to hold them in one arm. They are unused to this kind of affection from her, and try to wiggle away, but Lace gets what Lace wants. She pecks them on the cheek, and they make a noise like a boiling kettle.

“Don’t eat them.” Hornet, despite her earlier embarrassment, cannot help but smile at Lace’s antics. Bringing Ghost along was a good idea after all.

“They’re too cute for that. In any case, you needn’t always go in like _you’re_ about to eat me.” Lace holds Ghost on her lap, and tickles their soft belly until they almost start crying with laughter. “Think of the difference between a snack and a whole meal. You’re treating it like a meal every time.”

“That metaphor isn’t making any sense. Are you just hungry?” Hornet sticks her hand into the basket they brought along, and hands her a cluster of golden berries. “You too, little Ghost. Hold out your hands.”

“Maybe. Yes. What I’m saying is, it’s alright to be casual about it, little spider,” Lace explains. Ghost, hungry knight that they are, is the one who ends up eating most of the berries. She picks a few for herself and, just as she’s putting one in her mouth, Hornet’s mouth touches against her cheek.

“...Like that?” Hornet asks, when she draws away. It is Lace’s turn to be surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really ecstatic about how this one turned out, tbh, but these are just supposed to be warm-up/cool-down drabbles anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

> Lace: I’m never letting you go.

Lace wakes up at 7 in the morning to the sound of Hornet rustling her way out of their web. She is accustomed to this happening every day. Once a source of contention for the two, they’ve both come to accept that Lace is too light a sleeper to stay asleep no matter how careful Hornet is. So every morning, no matter the day of the week or the weather, the little spider crawls out of the nest and goes off into Hallownest’s depths. In all fairness, she’s quiet about it, but today she startles Lace with a phlegmy cough. It’s not that the weather was particularly bad, or that Hornet had caught a cold from one of her siblings. There’s a special kind of exhaustion in the way she swings her legs over the side of the hammock, and stumbles to the ground.

“Hmm.” Lace leans over the side of the bed, and watches Hornet rub her ankle. “Are you alright, dear?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. Before Hornet can get far from the web, Lace drags her back in with both pairs of arms to wrap her in a silk blanket. Hornet grumbles and strugg les half-heartedly against her comfortable entrapment.

“Stay in bed with me,” Lace coos, nuzzling Hornet’s flushed forehead.

“My siblings wanted me to accompany them to-to—” Hornet turns her head and sneezes into her arm. “_Ugh_.”

She sags down into the silky, plush bedding. The windows, frosted over behind the curtains, give the impression of a foggy and uncertain outside world, while indoors is more substantial and safer than ever. Lace is pleased to hear the soft, sleepy murmurs that come from Hornet when she runs a hand down the back of her neck. Her motivations for keeping Hornet in bed aren’t entirely selfless: she wants her little spider all to herself, even if it’s just for a few extra hours.  They  _never_ get to wake up together.

“...I need to get up,” sighs Hornet, who has already resigned herself to her fate.

“Nope. I’m never letting you go.” Lace never thought she’d be happy to be a spider: she can still hold her girlfriend, even while smoothing the blanket over the both of them.

There’s a short knock on the door, which cracks open. Lace lifts her head to see Ghost, standing shyly in the doorway with their nail across their back. When Hornet sneezes again, they  _tap-tap-tap_ across the floor and try to jump onto the hammock.

“Shh.” Lace puts a finger to her mouth. “Let her rest.”

They both look down at Hornet, whose eyes have thinned to black slivers. Ghost gently pats her cheek, before dropping back to the floor. Lace, feeling tired herself, lies back down. The hammock rocks back and forth like a cloud beneath the dark-sky ceiling. A sliver of sunlight streams across the floor, but it is no bother to Lace. There is a special kind of sleepiness to the early morning that not even the light can disturb.


	8. Chapter 8

> Hornet giving Lace a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.  
Bonus: Lace giving Hornet a massage as well.

Lace knows better than to lie down in Deepnest, even if it’s in the safety of the Beast’s Den. Her first encounter with the Midwife has impressed strongly upon her, and even with Hornet’s company, she feels unsafe. At least in Pharloom, she knew her surroundings. But Deepnest? It is like stumbling into an obscure, forgotten history in which she has no place. But the fact still stands that there is no infrastructure, no paths to walk easy on, and she finds herself quickly exhausted. She falls onto the first bench she finds, which is less constructed and more woven out of strong yet plaint silk.

Hornet sits next to her, takes the pin from her clenched fist, and eases her onto her side. “I’ll watch you while you rest,” she reassures her, “So take it easy.”

Lace sighs and rolls onto her stomach, letting one arm dangle towards the floor. A Weaverling comes over to bat at her fingers, but she doesn’t even flinch. Eat her if you must, she is too tired to fight back.

The spiderling is joined by its fellows, who perch on the back of the bench and underneath it as well. Hornet puts a finger to her mouth to shush them, and then puts a hand on Lace’s back. She kneads between her shoulder blades, firmly working at the muscles between her tired carapace. Lace lets out a tired, drawn-out groan, and the Weaverlings giggle.

“Would you take out the rest of your legs?” Hornet coaxes. Her hands, soft and cool against Lace’s shoulders, easily win out against Lace’s self-preservation instincts. Her four extra legs extend from her back like a flower, and that garners the attention of a couple adult Weavers nearby. Hornet now has a polite audience as she works at Lace’s sturdy yet soft limbs. They crackle and ache at the slightest pressure, testifying to years of forced confinement. Hornet squeezes and smooths out each limb, stretching them to their full length and bending them back down.

“What kind of spider is she?” inquires one of the Weavers. “A black widow?”

“Her legs look like a wolf spider,” says the other, “But the color is different.”

“Wolf spiders can be black. You know, she _almost_ looks like a tarantula. Her legs are so long.”

“I don’t know!” Lace groans. “Stop bothering me.”

Hornet covers her giggle with her hand, before resuming the massage. The Weavers look at each other, and fall back into silence. One of them starts weaving a cat-faced spider’s cradle for one of the Weaverlings. The gentle scuffing of spider feet, and pressure of Hornet’s hands, quickly lull Lace into full relaxation. Of the two, she was always the more relaxed one, but that’s not saying much. Neither of them have directly acknowledged why Lace feels the need to conceal half her limbs, just as Hornet doesn’t go into detail about her strange, Void-like body. 

Yet little by little, Hornet eases this tension away.  No one has ever handled her limbs with such tenderness before, never kissed the spindly spider’s limbs she always kept bound until she felt like her back was about to split open.  Without words, she tells Lace that she doesn’t need to hide away in front of her.

* * *

The moment Hornet falls onto the b ed , Lace descends from the ceiling and onto the p illows next to her. She turns her head towards her, the bare minimum of acknowledging her presence. Such is her exhaustion that her prized needle clatters to the ground; her hand is simply unable to support its weight. Lace plucks it up and sticks it to the wall on a makeshift silk hook. Before Hornet can even utter a ‘thank you’, Lace is upon her, rolling her onto her side, straddling her waist with hands wandering along her arms.

“I am far too tired for whatever you want,” Hornet grumbles, and is met with a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I not be happy to see you home?”

“That’s not what I was...” Hornet stretches her arms above her head with a painful _pop_. “Owch.”

Hornet recoils into a ball, and Lace puts a hand on her back. Compared to the chill of the caverns below, Lace’s hand is enticingly warm. Those hands slide under her hunter’s cloak to grasp at and rub her hands, until they’ve absorbed some of that heat.

“For someone so active, you sure are tense all the time. Come here, come here.” Lace pats her lap, and Hornet reluctantly rests her head upon it. Her thighs are soft already, but combined with the pillowy cushion of her bell shorts, Lace’s lap is heavenly. Hornet stares up at Lace’s grinning eyes, and squints back at her.

“My, my. You’re so tense,” Lace says in a sing-song voice as she lifts one of Hornet’s arms. She starts at the hand, digging her thumbs into Hornet’s palms, and working down her wrist and the rest of her arm. Hornet will not unwind on her own, so it is up to Lace to ply her into a malleable softness. She does this by firmly kneading each of her limbs, interspersed with kisses to the backs of her hands, her knees, her shoulder.

They are at the point in their relationship where Hornet is becoming less shy about these overt displays of affection. She softens considerably under Lace’s attentive hands, even allowing her lift her cloak so that she may reach her back. At first, her chitin creaks and aches. She instinctively tenses up, but then Lace murmurs pleasantly to her, and she melts. 

Lace squeezes her shoulders, digs the soles of her hands into the tightest muscles, presses and massages until it feels like the weight of Hallownest has been lifted from her slender bac k. That weight is replaced by Lace, who holds her from behind with her chin nestled between her horns.


	9. Chapter 9

> Hornet's mom gives Hornet and Lace very cheesy, matching shirts/sweaters/scarfs. Lace does their very best to pretend that they love it.

The packages, much like their contents, are identical in their soft silk wrappings. Spiders are immaculate in everything that has the potential for even the slightest decoration, and as a result, the wrappings themselves become part of the present. Lace, though a spider herself, feels out of place and nervous under the six eyes of Hornet’s mother, scrutinizing her as she peels open her gift. Hornet is holding up a beautiful knit sweater: white with a cord knit, and red wool lining the inside. Where Herrah was able to find wool in Deepnest is a mystery to Lace.

Lace undoes the last ribbon of her gift, and sees the exact same pattern of white yarn. Just below the cowl neck, she sees a hint of red wool.

She looks up, about to say something. A question, perhaps. _Did you accidentally buy…?_ Then she remembers Herrah saying that she had handmade these gifts herself. There’s nowhere to buy such fine goods, not in Hallownest. At a glance, she can tell that the stitching is almost identical to Hornet’s. Neither of them have commented on this, and in fact, Hornet has already changed into her new clothes. It complements her carapace beautifully.

Lace looks back down at her sweater, then up at Herrah, who is folding back the cuffs of Hornet’s sleeves.

“Very becoming,” Herrah rumbles. “Lace, put yours on. I want to see how it fits.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I...” Lace does not get to finish her sentence, because Herrah is shoving the sweater over her head anyway. She had the foresight to add elastic to the cowl, so it goes around her head and horns. As Lace pushes her arms through the sleeves, she feels the humiliation begin to set in. It’s common in Pharloom to wear matching clothes...in the context of being members of the same workforce, or young siblings. She and Hornet are neither of those things.

The fabric fits like a loose hug, but with her shorts underneath, it fans out like a dress. Her sleeves feel uncomfortably compressed beneath it, and the cowl is bunched awkwardly around her neck.

“Curse it all. I’ve gotten her measurements all wrong.” Herrah spins Lace around and inspects the back, then the front again trying and failing to smooth the sleeves of their wrinkles. “I knew I shouldn’t have eyeballed it. How tall are you?”

Lace gives her height. Herrah’s chelicerae click with disappointment. “ When the Midwife mentioned a ‘very large spider’ I thought she meant...Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I’ll have to adjust this.”

Lace is secretly glad to be rid of the offensive garment, but masks it with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

The moment Herrah turns away, Hornet leans to whisper conspiratorially in Lace’s ear. “You don’t have to pretend to like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“It is painfully obvious that—”

“Shh!”

Herrah looks back over her shoulder.  In one pair of arms she has the sweater, and in another, some measuring tape and pins. Both stop their banter, and Hornet folds her hands behind her back. Neither of them actually want to offend Herrah. Hornet in particular assumes an almost reverent attitude towards her, something that Lace envies a bit. They’ve both been without their mothers for a long time, but Lace doesn’t even have a memory to look back upon. She looks askance while rubbing her arm, silent even as Herrah beckons her to come over.

“Come over for a moment.” Herrah waves a claw. “I would like to take a closer look at your current outfit and take some measurements. I have an idea for an A-line cut that I think would look good on you. And while I am working on that...”

She perches a pair of her legs on a stool, and tilts her head to the side. It’s a gesture that Hornet no doubt picked up from her: inquisitive, expectant. “I thought we could have a chat. My Hornet has told me a great deal about you.”

Lace looks to Hornet, who nods and gives her a gentle push towards Herrah. Well…It’s nothing she can’t get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it was gonna be only 10 chapters but I found more prompts I liked. Also I un-death'd Herrah for this, you're welcome


	10. Chapter 10

> Lace breaking into Hornet's room through their window.

Something is tapping on Hornet’s window. The sound was loud enough to wake her up, but not enough to bring her mind from the bog of sleep. She rolls over in her web and yawns. It’s a cold night, and she’s not getting up to open the window. Once she has likened the tapping to raindrops, she easily falls back into slumber. The tapping, likewise, softens. Then, the window frame starts to shake. As if it had never been locked, swings open. A rush of air washes over the room like a cold ocean wave, sweeping Lace in with the tide. She closes the window behind her, and approaches the web.

If Hornet were awake, she’d probably demand that Lace use the door like a normal bug. Lace would reply, how many times have you entered through the window? And they would banter for a bit before going to bed together, just like every other night.

Lace runs the back of her hand along Hornet’s shell. How innocent and helpless she looks when asleep. How lucky Lace is to be able to witness this. She sits on the edge of the web, facing away from her, and starts to quietly weave. With her skill and speed, it doesn’t take long for her to weave a full blanket. She pinches at the silk and, satisfied with its bulk, drapes it over Hornet. Her little spider groans and curls up tighter. For some reason, this reminds her of their time in Pharloom. Lace had tried to cover her with a blanket, and Hornet had woke up cursing and lashing her limbs about.

She tucks the blanket around Hornet and, with her wrapped up, gathers her into her arms. This sudden movement wakes her up, and she squints into the dark.

“Wha...huh?” Hornet fidgets and kicks her legs all the way to the window. Lace crouches down a moment to adjust her in her arms, and to soothe her.

“Shhh. Hush, now,” Lace coos, in the same voice she uses when Hornet has had a nightmare. This has the desired soothing effect. Hornet lies her head against Lace’s shoulder, and offers no more complaints as they disappear into the dark. It’s one of those nights when even nocturnal insects stay inside. Hallownest’s Crown, solemn and stretched towards the sky, is guaranteed to be deserted. The last one to come up there was little Ghost, during the Infection. From here, Lace can see the wastelands beyond. She imagines herself carrying Hornet past the border of Hallownest, and all the way back to Pharloom.

Lace sits between two tablets that have fallen against each other, like a tent, and strokes Hornet’s arm. In the mouth of the valley,  the lights of Dirtmouth flicker.  My sweetheart, let us elope once more, and I shall take you even further than the toll of bells. Lace’s breath comes out white and cloudy.

Of course she wasn’t going to try and leave, she tells herself. But sometimes, coming close to doing something drastic is enough of a release.  Bringing Hornet with her was a whim, but when she sees her shivering on her lap, all Lace can think of is ‘we should probably go home soon’. The thought nags at her until she really does get up and go, with Hornet safe in her arms. She’ll make it up to her in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't use a prompt this time! I just wanted to write this, and it's a Lacenet drabble, so it fits here. This is kind of a prelude to the 'enemies to lovers in 4000 words' fic I wrote a while back (it looked so much better in my head lol sobs)

Finding Hornet isn’t hard, especially since she left a trail this time. Lace wasn’t sure what it was the first time she saw it. She would have mistaken it for ink, had she not seen a scrap of red cloth floating in it. She kneels to get a better look, but already knows who this belongs to.

This isn’t ink: it’s blood. There’s more of it, trailing through the side hall and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, she sees a splash of it across the stones. Lace can easily piece together what happened: an injury, a flight to safety, a tumble down the stairs. The back door sways, as if it had been recently pushed open. Lace takes a step outside, and pushes the door shut behind her. She doesn’t know why she does that. Maybe it’s to give her and Hornet some privacy. This is just the kind of place a spider would go to hide: low ceiling, rocky walls, lots of corners to curl up in.

Even when driven into a corner, Hornet is frightening, and beautiful. When she sees Lace, she hisses and brandishes her needle. Her wild, wide eyes bore into Lace’s with such ferocity that it sends her a step back. Lace grips the handle of her pin, wondering if she’s walking into another fight. To be quite honest, she doesn’t want that. But if it comes to blows, then it’ll be her fault, won’t it?

“You’re hurt,” she says, breaking the silence. Hornet self-consciously clutches at her chest with her free hand, and grimaces. Her front is stained black; it’s hard to tell where the wound is, but it must be a deep one. “I’m surprised you were able to move this far in your condition. You’re very strong.”

Lace takes a step towards Hornet, who presses her shoulder against the wall.

“Don’t come near me!”

T his is not the cry of a confident warrior,  but the plea of a frightened girl . Lace takes another slow step, now close enough to see the bandages patching up her broken body, the hasty stitching done to repair her cloak, over and over again. One thin, crooked leg sticks out from beneath her garment. Lace absurdly wonders if she has been eating enough, or anything at all. Has anyone else noticed? She has been following and fighting Hornet for a while, and knows that while her companions are not constant, they are there.

It occurs to her that Hornet could have been hiding her condition. Pushing herself until she couldn’t move. ‘The red spider is a beast’, she had heard some clergy members saying, ‘She’s all over the place. We can’t put a pin on her.’

Lace crouches a couple feet away, and deliberately lays down her pin. She holds up her empty hands, and meets Hornet’s glare with a leveled gaze. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

A flash of metal, and Hornet’s needle goes sailing past Lace’s head. It clatters noisily on the floor behind her. At the same time, a trickle of blue blood stains Lace’s hand, between her forefinger and thumb. Lace has to admit she’s impressed: even a mortal wound hadn’t stopped Hornet from almost slicing her hand in half. It aches terribly. She keeps her hands up.

“I get it,” Lace says. When it comes down to it, she doesn’t. She really doesn’t. This is the first time she has even talked to Hornet without threatening her in some way. You can’t know someone if all you do is fight them. This feels like her first real glimpse at Hornet. “You’re hurt, scared, and far from home.”

Hornet’s ragged breathing fills the silence between them. When Lace’s hand approaches, she slaps it away at the wrist. With all the strength she can muster, she beats at Lace’s chest. “Don’t! Get away from me!”

“It’s alright. It’s alright...shhh.” Lace catches one of Hornet’s fists, and holds it. It quivers beneath her slender gloved hand, and she gives it a squeeze. “Shhh...”

H ornet has nowhere to run, and nothing left to fight with, so she freezes. It’s all she can do. Lace recognizes this as terror, not complacency, and continues to  stroke her hand .

“Poor thing.” Lace looks down at her bruised knuckles. Every part of her body seems to have been injured in some way. Bandages on top of bandages. Hastily-done sutures. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

Hornet’s breath hitches, and a black teardrop rolls down her shell. She scrubs it away with her free hand, and turns her head away. The sight of it makes Lace’s heart clench. Once she thought it would have been better to just put the spider out of her misery.  Now, the raw fear and desperation she sees only breaks her heart. Hornet tries and fails to hold back a sob that rattles her damaged frame. She pitches forward, and Lace catches her.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Lace brings Hornet into her arms, and carefully rises.

She’s very light, but unable to support her own weight. Lace shifts her carefully to one arm, gathers both their weapons, and ties them to her waist. The metal clatters intrusively against her hips and makes it hard to move, but she’ll have to make do until she finds somewhere safe for them.

Hornet moans, either from pain or grief, and Lace hushes her. “Just sleep. I’ll take care of you.”


	12. Chapter 12

> Hornet and Lace sharing soft kisses, lips barely touching, just chaste little things that leave both parties irrationally breathless.

“What did you think of the Hive?” Hornet asks. Under the tent at Kingdom’s Edge, huddled on a spread-out rug, the two watch ash flakes fall by. So many years after the Pale Wyrm’s death, and his corpse has yet to fully disintegrate. It’s no wonder, when there’s so much of it. The only visible part Hornet knows of has long since been buried. For what’s essentially a massive grave, it’s peaceful here. Maybe because the past got a proper burial.

“I liked it.” Lace leans against a crate and stares up at a hole in the tarp. “I like being up high. It’s nice.”

“I figured.” Hornet dabs some polish onto her needle, and runs a cloth along it. The featureless, milky sky blends into the ash drifts and rolls over the bumpy slate cliffs. The Hive was so much different, colorful and cluttered as it was, but it’s only a matter of time before they run out of honey. Hornet only felt comfortable taking one jar with her this time. With so few bees, she’s not optimistic about restarting the Hive.

So deep in thought is she that she doesn’t hear Lace trying to get her attention. A tap to the shoulder turns her head.

“You have something on your face.”

“Hmm.” Hornet wipes down the flat of her needle until she can see her reflection. She’s not really paying attention, which gives Lace the perfect opening to lean in and lick her cheek. The effect is immediate: Hornet shrieks and falls backwards, with Lace tumbling after her. For one heart-stopping moment, she thinks she’s being ambushed.

“Lace!” Hornet exclaims. Her voice cracks, now in part because their faces are inches apart. Her train of thought has been so thoroughly obliterated that there’s no getting it back on track. She’ll have to rebuild it from the ground up, and it won’t be about whatever she was just worrying about. Lace presses their foreheads together, and giggles.

“You had honey on your face.” She swipes a finger across Hornet’s shell, and comes up with a drop of amber liquid. “I wonder what the rest of you would taste like, covered in honey.”

“I am _not_ a snack,” Hornet grunts, turning her head to the side. She does not expect to be let out from under Lace, nor does she want to. Her weight is comforting, in a land where it feels like the wind will blow her away. “You just wanted an excuse to tackle me.”

“Maybe so.” Lace kisses her on the cheek. “I didn’t mean to surprise you that badly...but your reaction was too cute.”

Hornet grumbles and covers her face with her hands, which are quickly pulled away. Lace is blunt and unrelenting in her affection. Even the gentlest of nuzzles leave Hornet breathless and weak. Sitting up is a struggle against gravity. The battered old rug they’re stretched out on has become as comfortable as their bed back home. She stops pretending that she’s still annoyed, and rests her chin on Lace’s shoulder. She can feel the rise and fall of Lace’s chest against hers, and the warmth of her white-clad back when she holds her.

“You’re warm.” Hornet nuzzles against the side of Lace’s head. “You feel nice. This is nice.”

She pulls back and sees a flush blossom on Lace’s cheeks. It deepens when Hornet puts her hands on either side of her face, and leans in for a kiss. Her shell is much softer than Hornet’s, pliant and almost flesh-like under her fingertips. Her own hard white shell makes for kisses that do not feel very kiss-like at all. Her pedipalps prod about gently, and Lace takes one in her hand to kiss.

“You’re blushing,” Lace teases. Her voice is impossibly soft.

“So are you.” Hornet averts her eyes for a moment. To even make eye contact makes her face heat up. Again she feels gentle caresses to her face, thumbs rubbing into the palms of her hands and then settling around her waist. Her own arms go around Lace’s shoulders, wrapping them both in the sturdy fabric of her cloak.


	13. Chapter 13

> Hornet: You can learn about my tragic backstory later, right now we need to move.

The most horrifying thing about the mechanism was that the Weaver attached to it is still alive. It does not move the chamber, thanks to its silk bindings, but she can hear its breathing quicken when she entered. Its spindly legs quiver, and Hornet herself feels her hands begin to shake. The silk threads wound around it and stretching from its containment are wound mechanically tight, like violin strings, but with none of the musical beauty about it. Each thread glows, and when she nears the structure, seals of binding light up the floor. She can’t think of what else they would be.

Lace’s warning repeats in her mind: _You don’t want to go in there_. To hell with that. This is something she needs to see.

Hornet steps into the light, and the Weaver cries out in alarm.

“Princess!”

With a flash of recognition, Hornet’s eyes widen, and she bolts to the silk cage. The Weaver strains against their bindings, leaning as far as they can towards her.

“Princess, is that you?” the Weaver just about sobs. Hornet holds her hands out, but the Weaver stops her. “No, don’t touch it. Oh wyrm, is that really you?”

“Yes, it’s me. What have they done to you? What are these bindings?”

“Oh,” the Weaver chokes, “This is my silk. All of it, it’s all my silk. You’ve grown so big. How much time has passed?”

“I don’t know. A long time.” Hornet’s hands shake. “They’re...they’re forcefully extracting your silk, aren’t they? This is far more than you should be able to produce. What...what on Earth...”

The Weaver starts to cry. Hornet puts her hand on the stone frame of the cage. That is all she can do for them.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’m so sorry. I'll do what I can, but the rest who came from Hallownest, they're all...”

* * *

Outside the chamber, Lace waits. Somewhere, a bell tolls eight times. Then, a lot of small bells chiming at once. Her body still aches from her duel with the spider. Her head hurts. Having a headache somewhere as noisy as Pharloom is an absolute nightmare, more than it already is. Maybe that’s why she’s standing out here, letting the little spider tamper with one of the kingdom’s most well-kept secrets. It would only take sounding an alarm bell for devouts to descend upon the area, and take all of them into custody.

They’re technically enemies, but the establishment is their mutual enemy. That’s going to include Lace’s ‘allies’ soon, once they find out she hasn’t gone and skewered Hornet while her back is turned. She has just started to introspect on this, when she hears such a loud clanging that the floor rocks beneath her. It’s with her pin stabbed into the floor that she saves herself from falling face-first. Hornet comes rocketing through the door seconds later, needle glaring like a bolt of lightning.

“What did you do?” Lace yells over the noise. Hornet grabs her wrist, and pulls her along. It’s not just her needle: her cloak gleams with white embroidery. It looks unlike any spell she has seen. “What is that?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Hornet shouts back, “but right now, we need to move!”


	14. Chapter 14

> Lace is about to leave for work. Hornet asks them if they've forgotten anything, and Lace gives them a kiss. Hornet turns red and opens their hand to reveal Lace's keys/wallet/etc., saying 'I meant this, but thanks.'

It is nighttime, when most bugs are already asleep, but Lace is getting ready to leave as if it were the crack of dawn. The siblings, already in their sleeping clothes and winding down for the night, watch in a daze as Lace counts and recounts everything in her bag. Pin: on her belt, as always. Healing packs, a lifeblood syringe, provisions. Lace frowns, and takes all of it out. When she puts it back in, she endeavors to have it take up as little space as possible. Half the bag is still empty, and she remembers that she was to bring a change of clothes.

Lace rushes upstairs, and in the minute she’s away, Ghost crawls into the bag and makes themselves comfortable. They’re still little enough to fit between all of the supplies. They might even be able to come along with Lace. Hollow leans over and watches them try to zip themselves in, and then _they_ get the idea to try and fit inside, too. Lace comes back downstairs to see Hollow bent over with their face in the bag, and one of Ghost’s little hands waving for help.

“What are you two doing?” Lace lifts Hollow’s head up. “I can’t take you with me.”

Getting Ghost out of her pack is more of a challenge. The little Vessel has gotten comfortable, and Hollow has decided that the top of Lace’s head is a good place to rest their chin. They are fortunately lighter than they look, but they aren’t helping her stay balanced. How does Hornet take care of these two on a daily basis? Lace has been living with them all for a while, and she’s still at a complete loss. Her laughter grows weak as she struggles to relocate Hollow. The sofa feels like it’s a mile away, and Hollow isn’t supporting their weight at all.

“Here, let me help.” Hornet, seemingly from nowhere, drags Hollow’s arm over her shoulder and easily whisks them away. She deposits them onto the couch, where they lie sprawled out and limp. “So dramatic. Where is little Ghost?”

Lace points accusingly to her backpack, which is still on the table. Hornet, none the wiser, had walked right past it. Its occupant has been still, but now the bag begins to shake. Much to Lace’s delight, Hornet unzips the bag and sticks her face in much like Hollow had just done. Ghost’s horns poke out—they’re trying to escape—but she grabs them and hugs them to her like a stuffed toy.

“_You_.” She grinds her fist between their horns playfully, and then tosses them away. They land perfectly on both feet, and rush right back to her. They lift their arms as if to say, ‘again!’. This time they land on top of Hollow, who jolts up. They realize it’s just Ghost, making themselves at home on their lap, and lies back down with their hand over their face. Hornet giggles into her hand.

“Oh, right...Did you forget anything?” Hornet asks. She’s watching closely as Lace packs in her clothes, and finally zips up the bag. She slings it over her shoulders, checks its weight, and then gives pause. She has gone over her luggage so many times that it all looks like shapes to her. But she has everything, and is finally ready to go.

“Oh!” She closes the distance between herself and Hornet for a kiss. Because she’s traveling alone this time, she won’t get one of these until after she comes back. They pull away from each other, both a little red, and between them Hornet holds something shiny on her palm.

“I meant this, but thanks,” she mumbles. It’s the spare house key. Lace drops it into her pocket, close to sweating from the heat building up in her cheeks.


	15. Chapter 15

> Hornet telling Lace a story but Lace isn't paying attention at all because they're too busy thinking about what a cutie Hornet is.

When Hornet unfurls a map across the table, Lace knows she’s going to be here for a while. The map looks ancient, with tears that have been patched up and drawn over, and frayed edges. Hornet puts rocks over the curling corners, and whisks out a pen.

“So, I’m sure you noticed on the way in that the elevator is broken,” she begins, and Lace nods in affirmation. “I’m going to clean off the cobwebs, and restring it with a pulley system. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to borrow a spool of your silk for the task, as it is quite sturdy.”

“That’s fine.” Lace props her chin on her hands. “So what’s the map for?”

“Oh, this? It’s an old map of Deepnest. Ghost wouldn’t let me borrow theirs.” Hornet smooths out the old silk almost affectionately. “We have bugs living in both the Distant Village and the Weaver’s Den, but going from one place to another is difficult. I want a straight-across transportation system that can take us from one way to another. Of course, we cannot drill through the bedrock, but from the elevator to the Weaver’s Den, it’s a straight-across line.”

She draws a dotted line from said location, whilst leaning over the table. The lamplight plays upon her so that a shadow is cast across her shell in the most exquisite way. Lace exhales softly.

“Honestly, I don’t know what Father was thinking, putting the tram where he did. It only connects the _northern_ region, and you’d still have to go down a long shaft to reach the Ancient Basin tram. There’s a stag station in the Lady’s garden, anyway...” Hornet taps the pen to her chin. “His plan for forcefully integrating Deepnest into the rest of Hallownest was doomed from the start.”

Lace, who hasn’t inquired much into Hornet’s background and has little understanding of pre-fall Hallownest, nonetheless has a basic idea of what she’s talking about. Pharloom succeeded in conquering where Hallownest had failed.

“I want to disrupt the natural landscape as little as possible,” Hornet goes on. “I was thinking of a monorail or a chair lift, but there’s the matter of the feral spiders who live on the ceilings. Another option would be to create another tunnel in the stag station, and stop it just outside of the Weaver’s Den. What do you think?”

“Um,” Lace sits up. She had been watching Hornet’s small, slender hands animate across the map.

“I think the effort to dig would be immense. Hallownest doesn’t have the tools or the workforce that it used to. The Stag Stations could only become a reality because there were so many bugs who were willing to dig. I’ve also read about utilizing the goams, but domesticating one would be such a nightmare. We really shouldn’t do that after all. But how in the world would we manage a safe passage from the elevator to the Weaver’s Den?”

She folds her arms on the table, with her shoulders hunched and head lolled against one of them in the most endearing way. Lace should be contemplating as well, but, quite uselessly, all she can think about is how cute Hornet is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished with all the prompts! Everyone, thank you so much for reading :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Gooooood evening! I've been using prompts neocities to generate prompts, and I was like, how about I just write a collection of snippets based on my favorites? So here we go!


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